


The Problem With Realities

by pallysuune



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Action/Adventure, I'm Bad At Tagging, Multi, Relationships May Change, Semi-mirror verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29930907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallysuune/pseuds/pallysuune
Summary: After getting knocked out during the destruction of New Delhi, Taylor finds the people she knows are very different than she remembers them. Her old team are heroes, and the ones she knew as heroes are villains.But when Taylor thinks about betrayal she started her time in the Undersiders with, she begins to wonder about her alternate self, and worry that she's not as good as she claims. She just isn't sure what to do about it...
Relationships: Alec | Regent/Aisha Laborn | Imp, Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver/Brian Laborn | Grue
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	The Problem With Realities

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't quite get this idea out of my head, so here we go. Not everyone is a direct mirror image of their other selves. Most of the the younger generation is, at the very least, in mirror roles, while many of the older generations are more in line with canon. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Obviously, I don't own anything, I just write for fun.

"Weaver!"

She jolted. Not quite awake, since she hadn't been asleep, but something like that. She looked down at her arm, at the old Skitter costume spray painted white. One lense of her mask was cracked, making everything weirdly fractured as she raised a hand and flexed it. What was going on?

Oh. 

Behemoth.

Weaver jerked up from where she was lying in the rubble of a ruined alley, her head throbbing, protesting the move. Fuck fuck fuck. She was supposed to avoid head injuries, some part of her brain reminded her unhelpfully. Not much she could do about that now, though. 

With a groan, she shoved pieces of what she thought might have been an awning away, dragging herself free of the wood and bricks. A hand grabbed her arm and helped pull her out before her mystery savior paused, drawing away. 

"I thought you-" the voice broke off as she lifted her head to look at them. It was familiar, echoing faintly. _Grue._

Except, it wasn't Grue she was looking up at. She didn't think. Same build, same black costume, but instead of leather, he wore what looked like layered armor not that different from her own, made of some kind of carbon fiber instead of chitin. His helm was just a faceless, plain black, but darkness seeped from vents at the back. 

Bizarro-Grue just looked at her, too, like he'd been expecting someone else. He'd called her Weaver before. Except now he didn't seem so sure. A loud crash, not far enough away to be comfortable made them both jump. He shook his head. "I don't know who you are, but are you okay? Can you walk?" He offered a hand to her. 

He didn't know who she was? She was Weaver he said so him- Her thoughts ground to a halt. Grue never called her Weaver. Never. _You'll always be Skitter to me._ Isn't that what he said?

What the fuck was going on?

More crashes was enough to urge her to worry about it later. She grabbed Not-Grue's hand and let him pull her up to her feet. She tried to fire up her flight pack, but the only thing that came from it was a grating, painful noise. She cringed and turned it off. She was going to have to resort to running like everyone else. 

They took off for the end of the half-destroyed alley, the twilight zone Grue in the lead and Weaver following, gathering as many bugs as she could. She'd lost control of them when she'd been knocked out. 

"There's a temple outside the city center where they're taking the injured," Nega-Grue said, dropping back so he was beside her. "West of here. You should head that way."

"What about you?" Weaver asked, but he was already running off, this time in the direction of the commotion, toward where Behemoth could just barely be seen above the buildings. 

Fuck. Well, fine. There wasn't much she could do about that right now, could she? Her head was still pounding and it was hard to think. She wasn't exactly in a place to stop some crazy person who looked and sounded like her ex boyfriend but wasn't actually her ex boyfriend from going and probably getting himself killed. 

Again, what the fuck was going on there?

Her bugs identified the sound of a motorcycle a street over and a little behind her, maybe if she could get them to stop, she stood a chance of actually making it to the temple and not getting squished before she could. She found another side street connecting them and rushed for it. She stumbled out almost directly in front of the motorcycle, trying to reverse her momentum and back pedal as it's breaks squealed and it veered around her. For one second, she thought the rider might just keep going, but they stopped. Thank fuck for that. 

She looked at the person in rust-red power armor and felt relief flood her. Tecton. Thank god. He looked mostly the same, at least, though he was staring at her strangely. 

"I need to get to the temple," she said, hoping she could avoid any weird questions by speaking first. She had a bad feeling about this whole situation, but she needed to find Tattletale to tell whether it was true or not. And she wasn't so worried. Tecton was a hero, he'd help her. 

He hesitated, glancing back in the direction he'd come from. The direction Behemoth was in. 

Weaver felt her stomach sinking. He _would_ help her… right?

Finally, he turned back to her, motioning toward the back of the bike with a tip of his head. "Get on. Hurry."

She wasn't about to wait for him to change his mind, scrambling onto the motorcycle behind him and getting a grip on some places on his power armor that seemed relatively safe to hold. She'd barely gotten settled when he revved the engine and took off, tires skidding on the broken, rock strewn street, sharp enough he damn near unseated her. 

Holding tight to him, she glanced back toward the distriction of New Deli. Fucking hell, that was… that was bad. More than that, it felt _wrong_ somehow. Maybe if was just her imagination after seeing the Faux-Grue, but still… 

Tecton took the alleys faster than was probably safe, but there was nothing safe about any of this situation, so Weaver kept her mouth shut. Ahead of them, the streets opened up and she could see the temple, the structure a little worse for the wear, those capes that could, outside defending it. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Fuck, she hated not being in control. Having to rely on Tecton, not knowing what was going on. She felt so _ineffective_ and it drove her nuts. 

She was jumping off the bike even before Tecton had fully stopped it. He yelled something after her, but she didn't hear what it was. She was too busy running toward the temple. Besides the fact that she should probably get her head injury checked out, she needed to see if Tattletale was there. Both because Tattletale was her friend, and because if there was something strange going on, Tattletale would know. 

The inside of the temple wasn't exactly what she'd call crowded, but there was definitely a good number of people there. Civilians and capes alike. Those who could were trying to help out the injured, and there was a very disconcerting number of bodies under dark sheets, an ominous specter that seemed to loom over them all. She looked around, but didn't see anyone she recognized. Her bugs swept over people - not exactly sanitary, but she didn't have time to worry about that now. Behemoth was still coming and, everything else aside, they needed to figure out what to do about him and this whole situation. 

_"-p here, Weaver."_

Someone had noticed her bugs, spoke to them, and Weaver had just enough presence of mind to catch it. She glanced around, spotting a curving stair off to one side and bolted for it. 

The other cape met her at the top of the stairs and Weaver froze at the sight of her, eyes widening. 

It _looked_ like Tattletale, except not , and not quite opposite. Her long hair was up in a ponytail, and her costume was white and violet. Her usual domino mask was replaced by a violet visor. It was undoubtedly Tattletale, in the same way it undoubtedly wasn't Tattletale. 

The blonde looked at her for a second, her head cocked to one side. 

"Tattle? What is it?" Someone called from around the corner of the stairs. Another familiar voice - Alec's. Weaver leaned around, trying to see him, but couldn't get the right angle. 

"Call the Boss," Tattletale called to him, though her eyes hadn't left Weaver. "We've got a situation here."

"Fuck yeah we do."

Weaver felt a chill run down her spine as she turned toward yet another voice, this one right behind her. There, just below her on the stairs was a young woman in a white costume, with a mantle and skirt of white and electric blue, her mask sculpted like an insect's with large blue eyes, her wild black curls falling down her back. 

The heavy dread that had been hanging over her the whole time came crashing down suddenly. 

She was staring at herself.


End file.
